God Doesn’t Give You What You Can’t Handle

I don’t know if it’s just me, but when something starts with “God,” I tend to think it’s from the Bible. Like , “God helps those who help themselves.” It’s not. So where does this gem come from and why do we keep saying it?

I’m sure I’ve said this 100 times before myself, but right now in my grief, it does not give me comfort. Because I don’t think any of it is actually true.

I think some things are just consequences of our own doing or the actions/decisions of others. So while I may be going through a massive loss I don’t think it was something that was given to me. My feelings/life/reaction are merely an externality to someone else’s story. I am a by stander.

Secondly, I can’t handle this. Now I know you’re not suppose to admit that you can’t handle something because it makes people uncomfortable that you might be unpredictable. I assure you I am in my right mind, but I am not okay with any of this and that is just how it’s going to be for awhile.

Last Saturday I spent an hour looking at Sharon’s Facebook and ugly crying my eyes out. #friendship goals. Then I thought about my kids and Josh and my friends and all the things I love and I really didn’t help me feel any better. And I had this thought – the beautiful parts of your life can’t fix what’s broken. Then a couple days later I thought, but that doesn’t make them less valid.

I feel like there’s this idea that you can put a band aid on these emotional wounds. And that is a LOT to ask of your regular life. If it can, great, but if the pain is just too much or needs to heal on its own, that has to be validated.

I feel like it’s dangerous to think that positive thinking will make this okay. Again, if that works, super. But you can still be positive and miserable. Who knew! You can hold two opposing thoughts in your head. The brain is pretty clever like that.

A couple weeks ago I got this really gnarly rash on my arm. I have no idea where it came from. It was blotchy and itchy and I legit thought my arm was going to maimed from scarring. But the key was not to scratch it. Sure enough it cleared up with no scars. What I learned : 1.) even though I felt like I looked horrible, nobody noticed 2.) by taking care of myself there wasn’t any damage. I really just wanted to run a brillo pad over it but resisting that urge preserved my skin

I know it’s totally a trite analogy but that’s how I feel about being in this depression. Okay, I am telling people about, but writing is healthy for me (per the last blog) and my whole goal is to preserve what I love about myself and my life even though I feel empty and run down sometimes.